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The image comes unbidden: you at your bath:
Your body the night sky, bright with stars. By crude reflex first I mock the milky way As streams of jissom running through, However imagined, but such desire Is not what bids me stare. I lie here in the memory of my gaze Upon the naked splendor of your body, Its heavenshine a warning and a gift: Vouchsafed the glimpse, how would I stop my eyes? Time stops as your body rises in the water And I see at the coign of your thighs The sacred nest and well whence all of life might spring Arousing yet calming, not pride but grace o’erwhelming. The slivered moon has followed the sun across the horizon And thou art gone, while I am hounded through the wood, My days fast fading in the face of tomorrows, And washed as dust from your moonlit skin. |